And there was the master ahead, pushing forward rapidly, looking neither
to the right hand nor the left. The boy sighed.

"He is hurrying to see Creon. He forgets me!" he thought.

But immediately his eyes were caught by some new thing, and his face
was gay again. So the little company traveled up the sloping road amid
interesting sights. For here were people from all the corners of the
known world--Greeks from Asia in trailing robes, Arabs in white turbans,
black men from Egypt, kings from Sicily, Persians with their curled
beards, half civilized men from the north in garments of skin. "See!"
said Glaucon at last as they reached a hilltop, "the temple!"

He pointed ahead. There shone the tip of the roof and its gold ornament.
Hovering above was a marble statue with spread wings.

"And there is Victory!" whispered Charmides. "She is waiting for Creon.
She will never wait for me," and he sighed.

The crowd broke into a shout when they saw the temple. A company of
young men flew by, singing a song. Charmides passed a sick man. The
slaves had set down his litter, and he had stretched out his hands
toward the temple and was praying. For the sick were sometimes cured
by a visit to Olympia. The boy's father had struck his heels into his
horse's sides and was galloping forward, calling to his followers to
hasten.

In a few moments they reached higher land. Then they saw the sacred
place spread out before them. There was the wall all around it. Inside